Crazy, Crazy, Crazy
by SurprisinglyOdd
Summary: The courier feels her mind slowly slipping away. She can't pull herself away from the Sierra Madre's clutches, and Christine's voice still echoes in her ears. But... She isn't going crazy! Of course not! Christine will return and she'll be safe again! It's only been a few weeks; she'll be back any minute now! No. She can't be going crazy. Crazy. Crazy, crazy, crazy ... One-shot.


It had been weeks. Weeks since the Sierra Madre casino had finally opened for business in an amazing display of fireworks and music. Everything had been too bright, too loud. She had been high above them. High above the godforsaken ghost people that roamed the ground beneath. She was high above them. High. High, high, high. Everything was better then, when you were up high. Above everything that scared you.

She remembered that heavy, metal collar locked tightly around her neck, almost choking her. It hadn't succeeded, unfortunately. Every so often, though, it liked to emit a soft beeping sound to remind her that she was a slave to it. It liked to make fun of her, the Sierra Madre. Always watching her. Making her feel safe for a moment then... Craziness. Toxic cloud, ghost people, bear traps. Crazy.

Crazy, crazy, crazy.

It had been weeks since the casino had tempted her. It had drawn her in, filled her vision with gold and then took it all away. No, it didn't do that. Nothing was taken away... She'd had to make a choice. Been forced to. Stay, die. Live, die. What did it matter? Who cared?! Crazy people! Crazy, crazy, crazy.

And of course, it had been weeks since she had turned back and taken in the prewar death trap for the last time, letting the toxic haze consume it and steal it from her vision. Gone. Weeks since then. Such a long, long time.

Had it really been weeks? The Courier had lost track of time since then.

She lay now on the cold, metal floor of the abandoned bunker which had since been littered with empty beer bottles and food packets. She didn't remember how she had gotten here. She simply... Did. She had been to exhausted for her mind to properly function. She had been solely focused on one woman, the woman who now would be roaming that damned casino until it took her. Until it replaced her with a soulless, flickering hologram and drained the burning fire in her heart for good.

Brianna O'Reilly had not yet willed herself to leave. No. The outside world was scary. They were out to get her. And if she passed the radio her collar would explode. Kill her. Instead she lay in wait, living on stale food and the sound of the radio from which Vera Keyes spoke to her. The radio broadcast which had lured her to the casino played on an endless loop, reminding the Courier again and again of the events that had taken place there, events which she would never recover from. Not quite.

Every now and then, a memory would flash in front of her eyes, only to bring her more agony. She remembered Christine the most. She remembered taking her hand and promising to return to her. How she hugged the woman tightly and whispered comfort into her ears. She had traced the woman's scars lightly with the tips of her fingers and called her beautiful. So beautiful. Christine had kissed her before she left, using the little of her remaining strength to speak to her, just one last time before the door closed between them.

"Good luck, Courier. Be safe."

Safe. What did that mean? She wasn't safe! She was cold. Her dress was in tatters, so every inch of bare skin connected with the smooth steel. Steel walls, steel floors, steel doors, steel heart. Crazy.

The courier trembled, quickly pressing the bottle to her lips and consuming the mind numbing substance before she went crazy. Ha! Crazy! She could feel her sanity slipping away with every sip, every sob. She was alone, with no way to break free of the memories that constantly weighed her down. She was suffocating every day, with no way to escape.

The Casino had broken her, or at least damaged her so terribly that no one would ever consider repairing her. She remembered that in the midst of the darkness, hope had always been peering in from around the corner, always much too far for her to reach. She had been forced to kill a friend and say goodbye to the only love she had never known. Christine.

Christine, Christine, Christine.

The Courier slowly opened her eyes to peer down at the small slip of paper that had been crumpled in her hand. She unfolded it, the small light from the radio shining just enough for her to make out the shaky, clumsy lettering.

"Let go, Courier - C"

She blinked at the note, remembering how it had been left by the fountain in the center of the villa. She set it aside and slowly, shakily got to her feet. She glanced at the large, steel footlocker in the corner, knowing that it would contain all of her possessions. Armor, guns, food, beer.

She crawled to the footlocker. Opened it. Searched. She withdrew her weathered pistol and turned to the radio. With hands trembling violently, she firmly gripped the gun and aimed. Fired. The room went quiet, save for the ringing in the Courier's ears after the bullet had been fired. The radio had been silenced. She would never hear Christine's voice again.

Vera. Christine. Dead. Lost. Dead. Crazy. Crazycrazycrazycrazy.

With a blank, deadened expression the Courier turned to the rusted rungs of the ladder which would lead her back to the surface world. She had duties, responsibilities. None which she cared for at the minute. Even so, she had to return. The Sierra Madre was behind her now, consumed by a purple haze amidst the valley of the dead where all was stained with crimson...

Her fingers found the smooth metal of her collar. She couldn't go. It would explode. But Christine... Christine would stop that. She always did. And the ghost people would get her if she went outside. She could just stay here, just for a little while...

A little while...


End file.
